


Who Needs Protective Gear When You Have an RBF and a Can-Do Attitude

by SixofOne



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Lucilius accidentally doses the absolute shit out of himself, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, in the sense that Lucilius is high out of his mind but otherwise no dub/non-con, we bringing back the "whoops aphrodisiac" trope b o i s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 21:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18396860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixofOne/pseuds/SixofOne
Summary: He knows it's too late even as the water rushes over him, painfully cold against skin that's already begun to tingle and grow hot with circulation, quickly spreading from his chest to his feet.By the time he gives up and pulls his arms out from under the spray, the skin at the back of his neck is beginning to prickle with sweat, his heart pounding and breath coming just a little bit shorter as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling and quietly whispers, "wellfuck."





	Who Needs Protective Gear When You Have an RBF and a Can-Do Attitude

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a sequal to [When the Circus Fades, You Were Always Carouseling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232649), but, like, whatever. They're both PWPs, there's literally no backstory you'd be missing.

Lucilius logically knows to not go grabbing for things mindlessly when they fall -- often the things he drops tend to be either messy, sharp, or otherwise _incredibly fucking dangerous --_ but muscle memory is stronger than conscious thought: when his elbow knocks into one of the beakers set up around his exam table, he grabs for it with both hands as it begins tumbling towards the ground.

 

And to his credit, he does actually manage to catch it, but not without first sloshing half of the clear purplish liquid all across his hands and arms.

 

For one long, horrifying moment, time seems to freeze completely as he stares at the liquid dripping ominously to the floor beneath him, the room gone so still and silent that he can hear the quiet splash of each drop hitting the ground -- then all at once he lurches forward, fingers scrabbling to tear off his robe and rip the gloves from his hands as he shoves both of his arms underneath one of the lab sinks.

 

He knows it's too late even as the water rushes over him, painfully cold against skin that's already begun to tingle and grow hot with circulation, quickly spreading from his chest to his feet.

 

By the time he gives up and pulls his arms out from under the spray, the skin at the back of his neck is beginning to prickle with sweat, his heart pounding and breath coming just a little bit shorter as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling and quietly whispers, "well _fuck._ "

 

\---

 

Lucilius paces furiously back and forth for what feel like _hours_ after that, though in reality he knows can't be more than twenty minutes.

 

The tingling has morphed into a strange, heady sort of dizziness, shirt and leggings clinging uncomfortably to his sweaty body and breath coming faster and faster as his heart rate speeds up far past anything Lucilius can possibly write off as 'normal.' His cock is _aching_ where it's trapped inside his leggings, every single shaky step seeming to make it more unbearable, and it only takes a few more back-and-forths before he finally sinks to his knees with a tight groan.

 

He should have known better. There was a _reason_ he made everyone else wear rubber gloves when they handled any of his solutions, and particularly that one. But pride goeth before a fall, and Lucilius wishes that for once he would take his own godsdamned advice as nausea begins clawing its way viciously up the length of his throat.

 

The tile feels cool against his burning skin as Lucilius collapses to his side and shoves his face against it, hands stubbornly clenched together against his racing heart as he tries to breathe his way through each tidal wave of agonized arousal and sickness that roars through his veins like molten lead. He focuses on his inhales -- carefully counting each second that passes, holding it in his chest for a few moments despite the way it only seems to make him _hotter_ \-- then exhales slowly through his mouth, cheeks puffing out as he wills his body to settle down.

 

For a moment Lucilius thinks it might actually be working, muscles relaxing marginally as he begins to go limp against the floor, and he cautiously cracks an eye open. A clock ticks somewhere in the lab, the sound an irritatingly constant backdrop and he breaths -- _in, out, in, out_ \-- and he slowly begins to sit back up, muscles shaky and body clammy with nausea, but seemingly settled into something bearable.

 

As if on cue, another heatwave roars to life under his skin, underscored by a deeper, heavier, and entirely unsettling wave of arousal so intense that it makes him gasp, falling back to the floor as sweat pools against the dips of his skin. It leaves him weak, every nerve in his body lighting up like the most cruelly wonderful sensation of pins and needles, and suddenly all he can seem to think about is Belial's large hands forcing him down into a mattress and a cruel mouth biting at his skin until he screams.

 

He shoves his face harder against the cold floor, body curling up further as he holds his breath and tries forcing his mind to something -- _anything_ \-- else. He begins reciting the the periodic table, forcing his breathing to slow as he calmly goes through each element, but only gets to 'phosphorous' before the voice in his head starts to sound a lot like Belial, and Lucilius suddenly remembers just how far his legs had been forced to spread just to fit them around Belial's waist.

 

Lucilius lets out a pathetically wet sounding moan against the floor at that, one hand mindlessly unclenching to instead press flat against his collarbone. He pants, each breath sounding more like a choked whimper as his hand slowly, tentatively, begins caressing over his chest, just the sensation of his fingertips dragging against his collarbone making him feel dizzy with need. He pauses, teeth grinding and eyes clenching shut against the burning _want_ roaring in his blood, before he haltingly drags his fingertips across a cloth-covered nipple. The sensation makes his entire body jerk with a sharp gasp before he can choke it back, the scorching pleasure leaving ripples of goosebumps in its wake. He bites his lip, swallows, then reluctantly lets his hand trail down even further, across trembling stomach muscles and down to where his trapped cock is still hard and leaking against his hip.

 

For a long moment he hesitates, frustration and shame making him bite harder into his lip nearly until the skin breaks, but then he finally presses the heel of his hand against himself and his mouth drops open in a loud, tortured moan.

 

It hardly takes ten seconds before he's coming with a jerk and a strangled whine that he almost doesn't recognizes as his own voice, spilling hot and messy against his skin. And though there's a brief sense of relief in the aftermath of his orgasm that leaves him boneless and shaky against the floor, it feels as though he's barely given a few short breaths before his stomach begins fluttering and heat begins rising through him all over again.

 

He _swears_ that this time he's just going to bite his tongue and willpower his way through it, but then his skin is suddenly searing hot and he can't seem to tear his clothes off fast enough. He drags his shirt up over his head, narrowly managing to tug one leg free of its boot and the leg of his tights, before rolling onto his hands and knees, arching his back, and wrapping a shaky hand around himself.

 

He comes hard after a few desperate strokes, breath hitching sharply and hips pushing back against Belial's imaginary touch.

 

\---

 

By the time Lucilius accepts that he physically can't take care of this on his own anymore, his entire body aches with tension and his legs are trembling so violently that they barely seem to support his weight as he moves through the halls of Canaan.

 

He'd left his lab an absolute mess -- a half finished prototype still laid out on an exam table, ruined clothing and boots flung haphazardly all over the place and papers a mess on a desk. Really, it was a miracle that Lucilius had even forced himself to pull his robe back over his head, and even that was _torture._ The fabric felt suffocating and unbearably rough where it chafed against his fevered skin, and it was so long without his boots that he was forced to hold it up over his bare feet like a child wearing clothing too big for them.

 

And if he'd still managed to hold any hope that he might have some modicum of self respect, they were dashed the moment Belial answers the door after several frantic knocks, looking _revoltingly_ handsome and well put together in the sharp cut of his uniform, then takes in Lucilius' appearance with a growing look of alarm -- the silver hair hanging damp with sweat and stuck against his forehead, pale skin flushed red from his scalp to well past his neck, shirt and leggings absent with his robe falling haphazardly off a shoulder, and face absolutely mutinous as he glares at Belial as though he had personally been responsible for all of it.

 

Belial's eyebrows raise. "Whoa. What the fuck happened to you?" He asks, sounding so genuinely surprised that it almost makes Lucilius more angry than if he'd still found it in himself to be taunting.

 

Lucilius tries to glower, though he has a feeling it must be somewhat less effective when he looks caught somewhere in between 'bedraggled' and 'high as a fucking kite,' and he pushes past Belial without greeting. "Close the fucking door," he snaps instead, waiting to hear the latch click as he chews nervously on his thumb.

 

It was bad habit of his, always wanting to chew on a pen or bite at his nails -- something that he normally resisted, but he found himself more than a little unsettled at the moment, and having his fingers in his mouth seemed preferable to dropping to the ground and screaming.

 

Belial shuts the door behind him and Lucilius releases his thumb with a sigh, running a hand through his tangled hair as he hesitates. "There was a bit of... an _accident_ at the lab. I ran into a few problems," he says begrudgingly at length, and Belial actually has the gall to laugh.

 

"Yeah, no shit," he says drolly as he moves from the door, and Lucilius can practically feel his keen gaze cutting into his back, "you look like absolute hell. But what _happened?_ "

 

Lucilius turns to face him slowly, teeth worrying miserably at the side of his thumb again as he halfheartedly glares and tries to keep his knees from shaking too obviously underneath his robes. Belial smells like smoke and ozone, and being near his bed again is bringing up all sorts of memories that make it frustratingly hard to focus. "I may have... spilled a certain solution on my skin that I shouldn't have," Lucilius finally says when he can trust his voice not to give out, though he can't seem to take his eyes off of Belial's broad shoulders or the way he can see the muscles of his chest shift even under the thick fabric of his coat as he moves. "I use it to balance hormones and regulate incentive salience, but in large quantities, it..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence as he feels another wave of heat flush through him, but Belial seems to understand based on the way his smile has suddenly gone a little sharp at the edges.

 

"Cilius," Belial begins, slowly stalking towards Lucilius in a way that makes him both want to shrink back against the wall, and immediately drop to the ground in front of him. He locks his knees stubbornly instead, "are you saying you accidentally dosed yourself with an aphrodisiac? Because it sounds like you accidentally dosed yourself with an aphrodisiac."

 

"It is _not_ an aphrodisiac. I mean it's- it's not _meant_ to be."

 

Belial stops in front of him, close enough that Lucilius can feel the warmth radiating off of him and he has to crane his neck back to meet his eyes, and Lucilius feels himself start to shake harder. " _But?_ "

 

Lucilius glowers, even as his chest heaves and his body screams for Belial to grab him by the hair and force him on his back. He clenches his teeth tight. "But that's basically what I'm saying, yes."

 

"And I was the first person you thought to come to?" Belial asks quietly, raising one hand to graze his knuckles down the side of Lucilius' face, watching with a smile as even that small touch makes Lucilius' eyes flutter shut with a brief shiver before he catches himself.

 

Lucilius' tongue feels thick and useless in his mouth, and though he wants nothing more than to say _anything_ that would wipe that smarmy look off of Belial's face, he's suddenly not entirely sure that he trusts himself to speak without embarrassing himself. He can already feel the whine starting to build at the back of his throat, and he swallows and clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches as Belial's hands drift from his face and down to his neck.

 

There's a dizzy sort of thrill that rushes through him when Belial gently runs his thumb over the ridges of his throat, part instinctual fear and part desperate arousal, unconsciously tilting his head back as Belial's fingers curl around his neck and faintly _squeeze._ His head falls further at the pressure, pulse roaring in his ears as Belial drops his head down to the pale column of his throat and brushes his lips against his fluttering pulse. He mouths along it with hot breath and the barest scraping of sharp teeth, and Lucilius can feel when Belial smiles at the high, shaky gasp that shudders its way through Lucilius' body at the sensation.

 

"What should I do, Cilius?" Belial asks quietly, lips still so close to Lucilius' neck that each consonant creates its own exquisite sensation against his fevered skin. "What do you want me to do?"

 

"I-" It's already so hard to focus, but then Belial slowly licks up his neck, under the curve of his jaw and up to his ear to bite at his earlobe, and Lucilius cuts off with a strangled noise as his legs go weak and his hips try to surge forward. He lifts shaky, clammy hands to tangle in the hair at the back of Belial's neck, letting his head loll to the side against the lips pressing open-mouthed kisses behind his ear, breath coming in dizzy pants.

 

"What do you want me to do?" Belial asks again, even as he slips his thigh between Lucilius' legs and runs his hands down to Lucilius' hips to guide him forward. "What do you want?"

 

"What do I want," Lucilius repeats absently, another gasp tearing through his chest at the friction Belial's thigh provides and the way his large hands pull at his hips like he weighs _nothing,_ and _fuck, why is that so arousing?_ He tries to focus, shaking his head slightly as though to clear it, but then he rolls his hips forward against the insistent pressure pushing between his legs and heat _boils_ through him. "I don't know, I don't _know,_ just _touch_ me--"

 

Belial makes a noise that sounds like a growl and Lucilius shivers, hips beginning to roll forward with more urgency as Belial increases the pace with his hands gripping Lucilius' waist. "Touch you," Belial repeats, voice sounding rough and deep with none of the usual biting humor behind it, "anything else?"

 

Lucilius tries to pull his head back to snap _no,_ but to his horror the only sound that comes out as his eyes meet Belial's is a loud, unfiltered moan that only seems to get louder as Belial lifts his thigh up higher and drags Lucilius against it. He gasps, hands dropping to clutch at Belial's shoulders as the urgent feeling inside of him rages hotter, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from where Belial is staring down at him with red eyes that almost look furious in their intensity.

 

A very, very distant part of himself realizes that he'll probably be absolutely mortified by his actions later on; desperate and wanton as he grasps handfuls of Belial's shirt, body shuddering and jerking as noises Lucilius barely recognizes as his own voice come out one after another. But in the moment, all he can seem to focus on is the bruising grip of Belial's hands on his skin and the drag of friction against his cock.

 

Belial's gaze burning into his own begins feeling too intense as the pleasure begins to crescendo inside of him, and Lucilius flinches his eyes shut and jerks his head away as a breathy moan rolls through him, but then one of Belial's hands suddenly shoots from his waist to instead tangle in his hair and drag his face back up.

 

" _Don't,_ " Belial says, voice rough and quiet. " _Look at me._ "

 

And Lucilius isn't sure if it's the drugs flooding his system, or the way that Belial's hand fisted in his hair is making him feel impossibly hotter, but he forces his eyes back open even as it makes his stomach lurch with discomfort. It's almost unbearable knowing that Belial can _see_ him like this, and yet at the same time that only seems to make it better, somehow, the frustration leaving him breathless as Belial's eyes rove over his face, taking in every flinch and gasp.

 

Lucilius comes after that with a surprised cry, his whole body curling towards Belial even as he keeps his face stubbornly upturned, and the way that Belial's eyebrows furrow together and lips part at the sight sends another lurch of heat scorching through Lucilius' stomach. Belial doesn't let go of his grip on his hair until the last overstimulated jerk has wracked through Lucilius' body, and then he pulls Lucilius tight against him, one arm wrapping around his waist and the other petting through his hair.

 

"There you go," Belial soothes against his ear, his voice and hands shaking as though he had just been the one to come, "it won't last, but that should help for a minute."

 

And the hands stroking across his face and body are so mentally _irritating,_ the gentle tone in Belial's voice sounding condescending in a way that makes Lucilius want to tear him apart and step on his throat, and yet physically it feels alarmingly wonderful. Belial's hands are pleasantly cool in comparison to the way his own skin burns, every touch making his nerves light up, and Lucilius is just too incapacitated to actively fight against it anymore.

 

He lets himself sag heavily against Belial's chest until the stickiness of his robes outweighs the pleasant tingle in his body, and by the time he's pulled back and begun shakily tugging his robe over his head, he can already feel himself beginning to harden again.

 

He half expects Belial to taunt him for it, but he doesn't -- well, past the satisfied quirk of his lips and heavy drag of his eyes up Lucilius' body.

 

"On the bed, Cilius," Belial says softly when Lucilius pauses with his robe still clutched in his hands, and Lucilius _means_ to remind him who's place it was to give orders, but instead finds himself instantly discarding the last of his clothing to the floor and dropping onto the mattress embarrassingly fast, the strange itch of arousal leaving him scowling yet still frustratingly yielding in a way that makes him _furious_.

 

Belial doesn't taunt him for that either, gaze growing aggressively fervent as he begins unbuttoning the thick material of his coat. Lucilius watches his hands move a bit more eagerly than he'd like to, breath coming faster and faster as Belial's broad chest is revealed, and by the time he realizes that he's started chewing on the side of his thumb again, Belial has slid his pants down his thighs and Lucilius freezes completely.

 

Everything about Belial is _big,_ and Lucilius knows that -- he's the one who made him, after all, but something about seeing him like this throws it all into perspective. Belial isn't bulky like Beezlebub, or cartoonishly muscular like Uriel, but still broad chested and well-muscled, thick cock proportionate to the rest of him, and Lucilius shivers as he wonders if maybe he really did subconsciously create Belial to be the most agonizingly seductive figure he could possibly imagine.

 

And it seems impossible because that's what _Lucifer_ was supposed to be: The most beautiful thing that Lucilius had the power to create, as close in looks to his maker as possible, and Lucilius had laid down every detail with the confidence that nothing _could_ be more perfect than that. Belial, in comparison, couldn't possibly look more different than them, all sharp angles and harsh lines, wicked and cruel, yet the sight of him sends burning arousal thrumming through Lucilius' body so feverishly that he can hardly draw in breath.

 

It's overwhelming, and Lucilius is moving before he even realizes it, crawling across the sheets until he's kneeling at the foot of the bed, then opens his mouth and slides his lips over Belial's cock as deep as he can.

 

Belial lets out a loud, shocked groan, hands jumping up into Lucilius' hair as though to drag him away, but instead they just rest there as Lucilius hears him pant. And really, he has absolutely no idea what he's doing -- the chemicals in his blood and the sudden unbearable need to _taste_ hadn't also imparted a guidebook to sucking dick directly into his skull, but he must be doing something right as he pulls back up to the head of Belial's cock, because Belial's fingers tighten and he _moans._

 

Lucilius goes too deep on the next slide down and gags noisily, but that seems to only turn Belial on further as he groans out a disbelieving, " _no fucking way,_ " his voice back to that deep, hoarse tone from before that sends electricity down Lucilius' spine and goosebumps over his skin. Belial lets out a breathless laugh after that, one hand sliding to cup under Lucilius' chin as his thumb strokes across his cheek, feeling the way Lucilius' jaw stretches. 

 

Lucilius sighs around him, splaying his fingers against Belial's hips as he begins inelegantly bobbing his head, and for a moment he hazily thinks he must be getting the hang of it because Belial's groans start coming faster and rougher and his hips are beginning to rock forward into Lucilius' mouth -- but then a hand suddenly fists in his hair and Belial pulls him off of his cock with a breathless gasp, and Lucilius lets out a groan of his own.

 

"Fuck, Cilius, you're going to make me come."

 

And he isn't sure if it's the way Belial is staring down at him, his big body shuddering and appearance completely disheveled and _fuck, beautiful,_ or the way the hand in his hair tugs pleasantly at his scalp, or really just the heady mix of chemicals wreaking havoc in his blood and brain, but Lucilius feels like he's on fire and it _hurts_.

 

"Please, please," Lucilius heaves out between gasps, the words feeling completely foreign in his mouth because he isn't sure he's ever begged for anything or _anyone_ before, yet suddenly he can't stop. "Please, pleaseplease _please--_ "

 

Something dark flashes in Belial's dark red eyes and he cuts Lucilius off with a vicious snarl, fisting his fingers harder in Lucilius' hair, and Lucilius shouts as heat scorches him from the inside-out. Belial holds him there, chest heaving and face savage with arousal, then throws him back against the pillows so hard that Lucilius barely manages to catch himself.

 

He's only distantly aware of a drawer being ripped open -- too busy trying to keep breathing while a wildfire roars in his blood and his cock is so hard and wet against his stomach that it _aches --_ to be fully aware of his surroundings, but then Belial is wrenching his legs apart to slide between them.

 

" _Shh, sweetheart,_ " Belial says lowly, words sweet but voice a growl as he hooks his hands behind Lucilius' knees and pushes until they're nearly touching the mattress, "I've got you." Then he's pressing his slicked-up cock inside, and Lucilius cries out as much from the spectacular relief of it as he does pleasure.

 

He hates the way he can't stop arching his body up for more, hates that Belial called him _sweetheart,_ hates how much bigger Belial's hands feel when they're shoving his legs to his shoulders, _hates_ the way all of it makes it so good he can barely drag in breaths between the sounds punching out of his chest. Belial seems to remember almost everything about his body from their last encounter, each thrust rough and brutal and _perfect,_ and it feels like only moments before Lucilius is coming again, sudden and messy, from nothing more than the pressure of Belial's cock grinding inside him. The relief of it stings his eyes as he gasps and struggles through his orgasm, so intense and overwhelming that he can feel the tears gathering against his eyelashes.

 

Belial doesn't even slow down -- just pulls Lucilius' legs roughly around his waist and braces his hands on the bed next to Lucilius' head, fucking into him so hard that each thrust forces him higher up on the mattress as Lucilius feels the pleasure building up inside him again already. It's slower, this time, even more maddening, his mind hazed with heat and pleasure that leaves him feeling both pliant and yet oddly desperate for Belial to go just a little bit harder, faster, _more._

 

He doesn't mean to wrap his arms around Belial's neck and lean up to kiss him, but Belial is staring down at him with an expression that looks like a snarl again, and it's all just so horrible and yet incredibly, agonizingly _good_ that Lucilius forgets himself. Belial stiffens in surprise for only a moment before making a ruined noise and dropping to his elbows so the length of their chests press together, licking into Lucilius' mouth and swallowing his wail as Belial stops thrusting in favor of grinding hard, slow circles against him.

 

Lucilius moans wetly against his mouth, hips jerking on the edge of too much, but even the sharp edge of overstimulation has never felt so good. He slides a hand down his own body, feeling the way his muscles jump and his chest heaves, intending to wrap a hand around himself, but Belial knocks his hand away and chuckles breathlessly against his lips.

 

"Allow me," he says, voice barely above a growl, and Lucilius comes again with Belial's hand wrapped tight around his cock and unyielding pressure curved against his prostate, orgasm deep and full as his muscles contract and his whole body seems to pulse with it. It rushes through him white-hot and blinding, the tears gathering in his eyes finally running burning trails down his temples and into his hair, and Lucilius can't stop the broken gasps from leaving his mouth Belial fucks him through it once more.

 

Belial comes soon after, hips jerking in an uneven rhythm as he groans against Lucilius' ear, and Lucilius doesn't have the fortitude to bother hiding the way it makes him shiver in response. For several long minutes Lucilius secretly enjoys the weight of Belial's larger body on top of him, oddly soothing in its solidness despite the way his hips are beginning to protest being spread so wide for so long, until Belial gives his ear a light nip and pulls himself away.

 

"How long do you think that'll tide you over?" Belial asks, and Lucilius can hear the self-satisfied smirk behind his words without even having to open his eyes.

 

"Not long," he murmurs back, turning his face against the pillow as he languidly stretches his legs and back out. "I think I can already feel it again, but it's... bearable right now." He hesitates on the next words, mouth twisting into a tiny moue before quietly adding, "... thank you."

 

Belial laughs, and Lucilius feels him lay down against his side, dark hair brushing against his cheek as he rests his chin on Lucilius' shoulder. "Not like it's exactly a hardship. Actually, I think this is the best present you've ever given me."

 

Lucilius slits his eyes open in irritation, lips parting with every intention to tell Belial to _shut the fuck up,_ but then Belial's face is _right there,_ and his lips are _so full,_ and Lucilius groans in offended dismay as his stomach lurches with heat.

 

It must show in his face and eyes, because the corner of Belial's lips quirk up in a sudden smile. "Again already, huh?"

 

"Afraid so," Lucilius says, panting, and Belial presses a quick kiss to his jaw before rolling onto his back.

 

"Alright, but you start on top this time. You're already beginning to wear me out."

 

Lucilius doubts very much that that's true -- what with the even pace of Belial's breath and the way he _smirks_ at him -- but he isn't in much of a position to argue, so he slides his leg across Belial's hips to straddle him and braces his hands against his chest.

 

\---

 

Hours -- or fuck, maybe days, really -- go by in a haze of desperation and constant, neverending need. Belial let Lucilius ride him until his legs were too shaky to lift his weight anymore, then pressed him back into the mattress and fucked him until he trembled. Fucked him from behind; with his mouth and fingers; with Lucilius' legs thrown over his shoulders and wrapped tight around his waist, a constant shift in positions that Lucilius couldn't keep straight even in the moment.

 

Sometimes, when it ended in a particularly intense orgasm that left Lucilius shuddering and whimpering, Belial would silently brush the hair away from his forehead and press a kiss there, lingering and sweet in a way that he shouldn't be able to convey at all. Lucilius had _not_ created Belial with the ability to feel anything that might risk making him weak -- including affection -- but now in these last few minutes of the drug holding sway over his senses, he can't help but wonder.

 

Both of them lay on their sides, exhausted, Belial behind him with his hand holding Lucilius' top leg up in the air as he slowly rocks into him. It feels terrifyingly intimate, the way Belial's whole body seems to press against his. The way he leans heavily on his forearm to run his lips over the back of Lucilius' neck, across his shoulder, down along his jaw.

 

It's entirely too much and makes Lucilius' stomach twist, but he's too tired at this point to protest, hips arching back against Belial weakly with each slow, deliberate slide.

 

"Come on, Cilius," Belial breathes out against his ear, the hand holding his leg sliding to settle Lucilius' thigh in the crook of his elbow instead, fingers curling gently around Lucilius' aching length. "One more time."

 

Despite the slow pace and the way every muscle _screams_ as it tenses, Lucilius does after a few long strokes, a nearly agonized whine leaving his throat as his body shudders and jerks through it. His whole body is so weak from pleasure that he can do little more but lay there limply as Belial finds his own release with a sharp gasp against the skin of Lucilius neck, but he knows that it's finally over as Belial's hips stop rolling against him and he carefully lays Lucilius' leg back down against the mattress.

 

He can feel the way Belial's hands stroke soothingly down his sides as sleep begins to claim him, and the way Belial murmurs his name into his hair sounds uncomfortably tender, but Lucilius doesn't have much time to think about it before he drifts off into unconsciousness.

 

\---

 

By the time he wakes up again, it feels as though centuries have passed. His whole body aches, and he's miserably sticky from both sweat and come, yet there's a strange sort of dormant bliss that's settled into the deepest parts of his being. A side effect of whatever of the drug is left in his system, most likely, but it's pleasant enough that he doesn't immediately push away when he realizes that Belial is still pressed behind him with an arm slung over his waist and a hand caressing low on his stomach.

 

"Ah, you're up," Belial says as Lucilius begins moving, shifting his arm away so Lucilius can slowly lift his arms above his head in an unhurried stretch. "Feeling any better?"

 

Lucilius relaxes back out of his stretch with a hum of acknowledgment, slowly rolling onto his back drowsily. "Much," he finally murmurs, letting his head fall to the side just enough to look at where Belial is laying next to him, head pillowed on an arm and smug smile firmly in place. It's just the drugs, the artificial calm laying heavy and soothing in his bones, but Lucilius finds himself offering a tiny, tentative smile of his own. "You were actually helpful for once, thank you."

 

Belial laughs. "Oh, my pleasure, believe me," he says quietly, then leans down to press a kiss to Lucilius' mouth, soft and sweet. Lucilius is almost surprised with himself when he not only allows it, but even kisses back, all the frantic energy from the previous night long gone an replaced with a heavy contentedness.

 

When Belial pulls back, he presses one more kiss against the top of his cheekbone, then slides down to lean his head against Lucilius' chest, one arm curling back around his waist and a leg sliding lazily over his. And though the press of Belial's body against his is objectively irritating -- the warmth suffocating and the urge to shove him away almost _unbearable_ \-- Lucilius instead takes a deep breath and gently threads his fingers through Belial's hair, settling lightly against his head as he turns his face a little closer to his.

 

Belial can't love, and Lucilius doesn't want him to, but at least for a few more moments, this was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter is @666ofOne if you want to ugly cry with me about outwardly emotionless villains who secretly love their boyfriends even though the thought of loving anything makes them f u r i o u s <3


End file.
